The Cure, sequel to Fetish
by Bidwench
Summary: Set after Fetish, the next morning.


LuAnn's March Challenge: Sick, Sick, Sick

Sequel to "Fetish"

My eyesockets were filled with cement. I shouldn't complain, because I knew the little men with jackhammers were going to start in on the cement just as soon as my neurons started firing. I don't remember groaning, but that sound either came from me or Bob had eaten the mattress while I'd been passed out.

My nose started working first. Laundry soap. Bob. Generations of marinara had seeped into the walls. Joe's Ivory soap. Great sex. I extended my hands below the covers, searching. I recognized the soft comfort of Joe's old Trenton PD workout tee shirt, then felt lower. Panties still on. Okay, the sex was not of recent origin. I knew if I could ever pry my eyes apart I would find Joe's house. My apartment had a different smell—alfalfa nuggets, my Dolce Vita perfume, and lately the stale lingering scent of disuse.

I'd taken Bob back to my apartment while Joe was working out of town, mostly because I couldn't get comfortable in the house without him there. The bed was too big, the rooms too empty. Joe had slept over at my apartment plenty of times over the years, but the old row house had ghosts of Joe in every corner, and I couldn't sleep for thinking of him. He'd surprised me late on Valentine's night showing up at my apartment, and I smiled remembering my "present". That man's tongue was amazing…

Oh, geez. Moving the face was so not a good idea. Oh, God. I could see stars mixing in with that concrete, and those evil jackhammer jockeys were trying to slice open my eyelids. My stomach felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out.

"Sip," a familiar voice whispered. God bless him, he knew to be quiet. I stuck my tongue out and felt around for the straw. Cool liquid and bubbles worked their way down my parched throat.

I tried to moan in contentment, but it came out more like a groan. "Open." I could smell salt and grease. Oh, happy day. I chewed french fries and decided to try opening my eyes again.

I managed a small slit.

Joe was sprawled on the bed next to me with the french fry carton dangling from his fingers. He hadn't shaved yet, his eyes were soft, and he had just the hint of a smile playing along his mouth. My blood started pumping again, but most of it went straight to my doo-dah. "Ready for ketchup?" he asked.

I gave a very small nod. I still didn't trust moving my head too much, and anyone else would have probably missed the nod. Not Joe. He didn't miss much ever. Salt, grease, ketchup. Lovely. The fog in my brain started to recede a bit and I thought I just might live. I swallowed another ketchup soaked fry, then licked the extra from the corner of my mouth. Joe's gaze followed my tongue. This time it didn't hurt to smile. A few more french fries, and we'd definitely be on the same page, here.

"So what happened last night?" he asked.

I thought for a minute, but drew a blank. "I was hoping you could tell me."

Joe shook his head, and didn't even bother to try to hide the smile. "All I know is we got a call in about a riot down at Fetish. When I got there, Ranger had you and MaryLou waiting."

Oh, God. I remembered now. "Okay, first of all, I don't think it's fair to call it a riot," I explained. Joe's shoulders started shaking. "Hey, it wasn't my fault!" He was really starting to piss me off.

"Oh, I know Cupcake. It never is." He was still laughing, but at least he was saying the right words.

"I can't help it if those weirdos in there can't take a joke." Joe started shaking his head, grin still firmly in place.

"Did you really call Joyce Barnhardt a motherfu—" I placed my hand quickly over Joe's mouth.

"Joe, you know I don't talk like that." He nipped my fingers, and my stomach did another flip flop, a good one this time. "But did you know she was there with Dickie? He was wearing a diaper and she threatened to spank him for being a bad boy." My stomach still turned at the thought of Dickie's spanked butt in a diaper, and I quickly shoved some more french fries in my mouth.

Joe's eyes got big, and I swallowed. "No lie. I saw it with my own eyes."

"Holy shit," said Joe.

"And that's not all," I explained. "I probably should tell you that Dickie's pretty pissed. Um, I mean mad. Stop laughing Joe!" I punched him playfully in the arm.

Joe rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "I can't imagine why he'd be mad, Stephanie, can you?" he asked the ceiling fan. The ceiling fan had been my idea. These old houses got so stuffy in the summertime, and Joe and I usually generated a lot of heat anyway, so the fan was a good investment. It had taken him and Mooch almost two days to get it installed right, and Mooch almost came through the ceiling at one point. Boy, can he swear.

I quickly regathered my scattered thoughts. Dickie was a horse's ass, but I didn't want him going after Joe. "Well, Dickie had this thing when we were married. He was really upset that I wasn't a 'virgin bride'," I said. "Thing is, I never would tell him who I had been with. I mean, he had suspicions what with your poem at Mario's and all that, but I refused to discuss it. I figured what happened before we got married wasn't his business, you know?"

Joe nodded, still not sure where I was going with this. Heck I wasn't too sure myself, but figured I should give Joe a heads-up in case Dickie got ugly. Uglier. Whatever. "So last night, Joyce told everybody at that stupid club that she and Dickie had been doing the nasty since before he married me. Like it was supposed to bother me or something." I stopped and traced the design on Morelli's bedspread.

"And?" he prompted.

"And so I told them that was okay because I'd been doing you since high school. And then Dickie threw a bowl of pretzels at my head."

"He what?" Suddenly the laughter was gone, and I glanced up to see Joe's cop face slide firmly into place.

"He didn't hit me," I quickly explained, "Dickie could never aim for shit."

"I don't care," Joe bit out. "Nobody takes a swing at my girlfriend." I was going to point out that my skips took swings at me all the time, but decided this might not be the time. Besides, I kind of liked Morelli in this mood, all alpha male protective, eyes snapping, energy coming off of him in waves. Oh, my.

"It's okay, Joe. We ran into Ranger, and he got me and MaryLou out of there." I frowned, and Joe still looked totally neutral. Too neutral.

Wait a minute.

"Oh, my God." I finally whispered.

"Yeah," said Joe.

"Oh, my God."

"I know." Joe patted my arm.

"Oh, my God." I looked up at Joe and he nodded. I shut my eyes tight against the image burning its way through my eyelids. It didn't help, so I reopened my eyes and looked back at Joe. "Did all the cops see him?"

"I'm pretty sure," Joe answered.

"Oh, my God."


End file.
